The Bridge
by Arien1
Summary: Bilbo makes a very important decision in Eressea, and Frodo has to deal with the consequences.
1.

Title: The Bridge  
Author: Arien  
Rating: G  
Chapters: 2  
Summary: Bilbo makes a very important decision in Eressea, and Frodo has to deal with the consequences.   
Archive: Welcome, but please contact me first.  
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien gave these characters and places life.   
  
  
1.  
  
"Ready to go, my lad?" Bilbo said cheerily as he entered Frodo's room, his jacket slung over one arm and his walking stick in his other hand. "Almost!" Frodo said loudly from the other side, and Bilbo walked deeper into the room and turned his head towards the sound of his nephew's voice. "I'm just making sure we have everything we need."  
  
Bilbo saw Frodo standing near his bed, tapping his finger to his lower lip. His old leather pack was on the bed, the pockets still open. The older hobbit walked toward Frodo, putting his arm around his shoulder and caressing it fondly. Frodo looked over at him and smiled. "Don't worry so much," said Bilbo. "Everything will be fine. And make sure you don't pack more than you can carry!" Frodo laughed softly, then took Bilbo's jacket and rolled it with his own, tucking it into the pack. Finally, he closed the pockets and hoisted the pack onto his shoulders. "Now, I'm ready," he said with a bright smile. "Good, good, let's go!" Bilbo said, beaming back at him. He darted out of the room with surprising speed, and Frodo followed behind him, laughing under his breath.   
  
The Elven house was quiet. It was early morning, and the Sun had just risen, shining bright golden light in through the windows. The air had a slight chill to it, but the light felt warm on Frodo's skin and the chill was hardly noticable after a few minutes. As they walked downstairs to the lower level of the house, one of the Elves that dwelt there met them. "Good morning, Bilbo and Frodo!" he greeted.   
  
"Good morning, Lindor," Bilbo said, and Frodo tipped his head, smiling upward at the tall Elf. "Frodo and I are going to be away for a few days. It's been a while since we last went exploring together."   
  
Lindor smiled at them. "I see. Is there anything you need before you depart?"   
  
"No, thank you, Lindor," Bilbo replied. "Frodo's taken care of everything." He rubbed Frodo's shoulder again fondly. "Then I hope you enjoy yourselves," the Elf said. "Take care!"   
  
"We will," Frodo said, and both the hobbits walked away, waving to Lindor before they turned their backs and entered the city, the clean streets and windows sparkling in the sunshine.   
  
Frodo had no idea where Bilbo was intending to go, so he was content to let the older hobbit lead the way. Bilbo had merely told him that he wished to "see some things" with him, and he asked Frodo to pack enough food, water, and supplies for about five days. At first, Frodo had been worried about Bilbo getting tired -- it had been over a year since he and Bilbo had ventured any farther together than the seaside, though Frodo did explore the island on his own sometimes. When Frodo had mentioned stopping for a rest when they were outside the borders of the city, Bilbo had spoken sharply to him. "Now, Frodo, I told you before not to worry so much! I am perfectly fine for a bit of a walk." Frodo could not argue; since they had arrived at the island six years before an extraordinary change had come over the older hobbit. He was much more alert and moved faster and more easily, and he always had a bright twinkle in his eye. He was not the same Bilbo Frodo had known in his youth in the Shire, but he was a good deal closer.   
  
They walked along at a good pace, using the ancient paths that the Elves had made through the wilderness. Bilbo sang his old walking-songs softly under his breath, the familiar words flowing together in a half-hummed tune. Frodo joined in at times, but he was more content to listen to the sounds of the birds and the gentle rise and fall of Bilbo's voice. The grass felt cool and soft underneath his feet, and the air was warm and filled with the scent of growing things. Frodo loved how every inch of the island seemed to hum with life -- if he stooped and picked up a handful of soil, he could feel the life inside it, like the soil was waiting to have roots set in it by some plant or tree. The whole island seemed to be filled with life in this fashion: sickness and unnatural decay never touched any living thing, and the flowers and plants were always healthy. There was some sort of power inherent in the land itself that kept everything alive and beautiful.   
  
By the end of the day's march, Frodo was able to guess where Bilbo was headed, but he stayed quiet. After camping for the night, they walked through the morning and into the afternoon without a rest. Bilbo continued his cheerful singing, though at times he quieted and enjoyed the sounds of the wilderness.   
  
In the middle of the afternoon, just after the day had begun to turn warm, they reached a spectacular garden enclosed by a circle of trees. It was well-kept inside with paths for walking, and the scent of the blooming flowers wafted through the air. There were many fountains inside, each one different and beautiful in its own way.   
  
In the center of the garden, at the very heart of the island, stood Celeborn, the White Tree of Eressea. It was tall, but not overwhelmingly so, like the White Tree Frodo had known in Minas Tirith. On its slender white branches grew thousands of dark green leaves with silver underneath, and the very crown of it was in full blossom with countless white flowers. The leaves waved back and forth in the gentle breeze, but none of them had ever fallen off the tree. The soil underneath it was clean and neatly tended.   
  
The hobbits stood in front of it for a long while, admiring the way it shone in the sunlight. Both Bilbo and Frodo had seen it before, but were still amazed by its beauty. It was the true heart of Eressea, as beautiful as the entire city of Avallone itself. Looking at it, Frodo could understand why the sapling of this White Tree had been so revered by the Numenorians -- it seemed to embody an essence of the Valar themselves. The sapling in Minas Tirith had it, but that tree had still been growing when Frodo had last seen it. This tree had stood for years uncounted, becoming as blessed as the land itself.   
  
Frodo took off his pack and placed it on the ground, then walked toward the tree, being careful to disturb its soil as little as possible. He reached out as far as he could and placed his hand on the trunk. It felt warm underneath his touch, and, like every other tree and flower on Eressea, seemed to hum with life. He smiled softly at the feeling. Bilbo walked toward it, and stood next to Frodo, staring up at the tree before he too laid his hand upon the trunk. "Do you feel that?" he whispered to Frodo, and Frodo nodded, laughing joyfully.   
  
They walked around the garden for a while longer before finally sitting down to eat. There were other Elves around, strolling through the gardens, but it was quiet for the most part and no one disturbed them. After they were finished, they sat a while in contentment, listening to the sounds of birds and running water around them.   
  
Bilbo eventually broke the long silence. "Frodo, there's something I want to talk to you about."   
  
The statement instantly had Frodo's attention. He sat up straight and looked at his uncle intently. "What is it, Bilbo?" he asked.   
  
Bilbo was quiet for a few moments, staring down at his hands. When he spoke next, his voice sounded weaker. "I was weary when we first came here -- I felt very old and tired. But whatever is in this place made me feel better, and for a while, my weariness went away. I felt better than I had in years. And as you healed from your sorrow, I healed from mine, and I was truly happy for the first time in as long as I can remember. I didn't want for anything, I didn't regret anything...it was as if a new life had been given to me. These past six years have been wonderful beyond anything I'd ever dreamed of.  
  
"But I'm feeling weary again, and this time I know that I can't be healed of it. I think there's something inside of us that protests if we've lived too long, even if those years have been happy. I want to move on, Frodo. I don't want to look behind me anymore; I want to look forward. But the only place for me to go is away from this world, where I can't return."   
  
He paused for a few slow moments. "I wanted to spend some time alone with you, doing the things that we used to do back in the Shire. I thought that it might make things easier for you. I didn't mean to tell you so early, but I don't want to hide anything from you. There should be no secrets between us." He looked at Frodo's face, waiting for a reaction, but Frodo was silent for a long while. Bilbo's announcement had not surprised him, because he knew that eventually Bilbo would grow weary and want to die. But actually hearing the words had affected him more deeply than he had expected. For the first time, he faced being completely and utterly alone, the last reminant of his old life now gone. The Elves were excellent company, but Bilbo was his family, the only family he'd ever known outside of the Fellowship. Finally he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He nodded at Bilbo, reaching out and grasping his hand. He looked deep into Bilbo's warm brown eyes, which twinkled with mirth, wisdom, and love.   
  
Bilbo went on. "I want these last days we have together to be happy ones. I want to see this beautiful place one last time, and have some quiet talk with you, just like we've always had. Then, when we're all finished, I'll be ready to leave." He paused and reached out, stroking Frodo's cheek. Frodo had heard his words, but his heart still felt heavy in his chest. He smiled gently at his uncle and nodded. "Whatever you wish, Bilbo."   
  
They spent three more days exploring the countryside, walking at their leisure, telling old stories and singing. Frodo's best memory was the next night, when they walked far into the night and came upon the western shore of Eressea under the starlight. They walked along the beach together and the sand sparkled in the moonlight under their footsteps. The water was dark and cool as it washed over their feet, and the clean smell and music of the Sea was intoxicating.   
  
They made camp that night slightly above the shore, on a knoll of soft grass. Frodo sat for a while silently, staring ahead into the west where he knew Valinor was, though neither he nor Bilbo had eyes keen enough to see it. Eventually the older hobbit sat down beside him, looking west as well.   
  
"Valinor is there," Frodo said quietly. "I only saw it for a short time, but it was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. We could have gone, if you wanted." He paused. "We could still go."   
  
Bilbo laughed softly beside him. "I have always been happy here. I don't need to go any further." He clasped Frodo's hand. "You will go back someday, my lad, I'm sure of it. You have many years ahead of you yet." Frodo smiled softly at him, and they sat a while in silence, listening to the sound of the waves before going to sleep.   
  
The closer they drew to Avallone, the heavier Frodo's heart grew, though he tried to keep a cheerful facade for Bilbo's sake. Bilbo seemed to sense Frodo's heart, however: he would often give Frodo a gentle smile or a pat on the shoulder when he sensed that his mood was down.   
  
As the afternoon was drawing late, they walked home through the city. Bilbo looked around with a small smile on his face, as if he was taking every detail he could in with his eyes so that he would always remember it. Frodo walked next to him, his eyes lowered and his brow furrowed. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but he did his best to be strong.   
  
Bilbo hadn't wanted any fuss over him from the Elves, so he asked Frodo to act as normally as he could. Frodo washed and dressed and the two hobbits had an early dinner together, alone in the dining hall. Frodo barely touched his food, eating just enough to satisfy the small appetite he'd earned from the day's walk. Bilbo seemed to notice, and he would often reach out for Frodo's hand and grip it tightly.   
  
After dinner, they went together into Bilbo's room. It was rather large and spacious due to the hobbit-sized furniture, a gift from the Elves. Frodo set a fire, while Bilbo sat on his bed and watched him intently. When Frodo was finished, Bilbo extended one arm towards him, using the other to pat the bed next to him. "Come sit with me, my lad. Let's have a bit of talk together, shall we?"   
  
Frodo climbed on the bed and Bilbo put his arm around him, letting Frodo rest his head near his shoulder. He looked for a long while into Frodo's face, studying it as he had studied the city, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of it. Then he spoke. "I love you so much, Frodo. I love you as if you are my own; I always have. I knew that there was something remarkable about you from the moment I first saw you, and knowing you has only made that belief stronger. I have been so lucky to know you."   
  
Frodo looked up at Bilbo, giving him a small smile. "It was I who was most lucky, because I had three parents who cared for me. Two left me before their time, but one was always there whenever I needed him." Finally the tears that Frodo had held in for so long spilled over, and he wept. "I'm so sorry, I should be happy for you..."   
  
Bilbo shushed him, kissing his forehead. "Loss is hardest for those left behind. You've known so much sorrow...too much, more than you ever deserved to know." His voice was quiet, and he held Frodo close to him, letting him cry for a few long minutes. Then he leaned down and wiped away the tears that fell down Frodo's cheeks. "No more tears for me," he whispered, stroking Frodo's cheek with his warm hand. "No more sadness, and no more regret. We agreed on that, remember?"   
  
Frodo nodded. "I remember, Bilbo," he said softly. His tears still fell, and Bilbo continued to stroke his face, running his fingers over the fine lines that had formed by his nephew's eyes. Then he reached for Frodo's right hand, running his age-spotted fingers over his nephew's long and nimble ones, smoothing his thumb over the scar of Frodo's missing finger. "I've had a wonderful life. I've seen so many extraordinary things, things most hobbits could scarcely dream of. I've seen a white tree in bloom, and the glint of sunshine on the Sea as I sailed with Elves. I've seen mountains stretched far as the eye can see. And I've watched you grow up and become greater than anyone ever imagined.   
  
"But I am so tired now, my lad." He ran his fingers one last time through Frodo's dark curls, smiling softly as he noticed the grey. "Much more tired than I've ever felt before. I will go in peace, because I've had a good life, and there is nothing I regret anymore." He paused. "Please, Frodo, don't mourn for me too much. You deserve your happiness, as I've had mine in abundance. You have so much life ahead of you yet, and I want those years to be happy. Don't spend them missing me." He finally fell silent, stroking Frodo's hair.   
  
"I love you, Bilbo," Frodo whispered. "Thank you for everything you've given me."   
  
Bilbo smiled at him, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "It was my pleasure, my boy." Then he sighed and lowered himself on the pillows, and Frodo lay down beside him, clasping his hand. Bilbo closed his eyes and breathed slowly, falling into what seemed like a deep sleep. He fell deeper and deeper, and then his breath stilled and a look of peace came over his face. Frodo lay next to him, stroking his hand as it grew cold under his fingers. After a while his tears stopped, but he stayed by Bilbo until the Sun set and the stars appeared like jewels in the black sky. He fell asleep, and dreamed of rain under grey skies in the Shire. 


	2. 

2.   
  
On other days, Frodo loved the Sea, but today it provided him with little comfort. The salty smell of the air left a bitter tang in his mouth, and the wind felt colder than usual, making him want to pull his jacket tighter around his frame. The gentle roar of the waves and the high-pitched calls of the sea birds flying above the rocks sounded mournful rather than peaceful.   
  
Frodo had chosen to bury Bilbo on a high green cliff overlooking the Sea, but within view of Avallone, which lay southwest. The cliff faced East, toward Middle-earth, and the view of the water stretched out before it. On either side below the cliff wall, the white beach flowed like a ribbon. Bilbo had loved this place and he and Frodo had visited it often when they walked together.   
  
He was surprised to see how many of the Elves had come for Bilbo's funeral. Nearly two hundred of them had come to honor him, and they stood silently a bit behind Frodo. He recognized most of the faces: there were Elves from Rivendell that had known Bilbo while he stayed there, and others from Eressea that they had known, but there were others that he did not remember seeing before. Above all, he was gladdened to see Lord Elrond and his wife, Celebrian, and the Lady Galadriel, who shone white in the afternoon sunlight.   
  
Olorin had come as well. He had arrived in the city the day after Bilbo died, as if he had somehow sensed it, and gone in search of Frodo immediately. He had left the hobbit little since then, helping Frodo properly arrange Bilbo's funeral and keeping quiet company with him. Frodo was glad that he had come; Olorin had been an invaluable companion to him through so much of his life.   
  
Olorin sang now, his voice having a slightly gruffy quality to it that was more Mannish than Elvish. It was quite fair, though, in its own way -- it reminded Frodo of the voices of the Rohirrim as they had sang over the grave of their fallen King, Theoden. Olorin sang at first of Bilbo's deeds in the Battle of the Five Armies and how he came to be respected among both the Elves and the Dwarves, but later he turned to more personal matters: Bilbo's friendship and loyalty, and his great love and care for Frodo. The song made the dull ache in Frodo's chest even heavier, but no more tears came to his eyes.   
  
The song was over. "Frodo? Would you like to speak?" Olorin was looking at him, his bright blue eyes filled with concern and tenderness. Frodo swallowed hard, trying to decide. He felt he did not have Bilbo's talent for poetry or speeches, especially in front of the Elves. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself and ease the ache he felt. He walked forward, standing next to Olorin and facing the assembled Elves, who looked back at him with kind faces and keen eyes. He started speaking, trying to raise his voice above the strong wind that blew in from the water.   
  
"I have not Bilbo's talent for song or poetry, so I would like to honor him with a simple speech. As I was growing up, Bilbo would amaze and entertain me with his wild stories of faraway places and fantastical creatures. I took a child's delight in everything he said, and I developed a great fondness for him almost as soon as I could understand his tales. When I lost my parents, Bilbo became an even stronger presence in my life. Much of what he was, he instilled in me -- his curiousity of the world outside of the Shire, his knowledge of history and the Elder Days, and his respect and admiration for your folk. In the Shire, he was seen more often than not as an odd eccentric, but to those of us who loved him, he was our teacher and our leader. I do not think that I would be quite the same hobbit I am today had I not had his love and friendship. I was truly honored by knowing him.   
  
"I would like to thank all of you for coming today and honoring his memory with your presence. I am greatly touched and appreciative of your kindness, and I know Bilbo would have appreciated it as well."   
  
Olorin took a freshly-cut lily from one of the Elves, handing it to Frodo. "Goodbye, Bilbo," Frodo whispered as he knelt and gently tossed the lily into Bilbo's grave. He rose and stepped back, and Olorin put an arm around his shoulders. The assembly began to turn away slowly and make their way back to the city, but Frodo stood for a few long minutes, gazing into Bilbo's grave and then East into the blue-green water of the Sea. Olorin stood behind him until Frodo turned around, and together they walked back towards Avallone.   
  
  
  
  
Frodo sat silently on his cushioned chair in the dining hall, playing with the food on his plate. He wasn't hungry at all, though this feast was in Bilbo's honor. The musical conversation of the Elves was more subdued than usual; Frodo suspected it was for his sake and comfort. They were keeping an eye on him -- Frodo could tell, even though they were quite good at hiding it. Most of the Elves on Eressea had known grief in their lives: the loss of loved ones and their homes in Middle-earth, or the horror of war and suffering under the Enemy. They knew Frodo had experienced all of these things, and understood his sadness and did not think of him any less for it. They treated him with such honor and care that Frodo felt unworthy of it at times.   
  
He placed down his silverware and sipped his wine as he looked at the host around him. Olorin sat nearby, talking to some of the Elves. He could not hear enough of the conversation to understand it, but let the sound of the words flow over him. Then he looked over to Bilbo's empty seat near the end of the table, and the ache in his chest flared up again. He stood and excused himself and silently left the hall. No one followed him, though Olorin looked at him intently as he rose and left.   
  
The large, beautiful Elven house where he dwelt was quiet. It was nearly evening and the light of the lowering Sun felt warm and peaceful on his face. He wandered through the house and outside into the city, not paying much attention to where his feet were carrying him. He walked along a high wall, towards an archway that led into the woods. There was an ancient, well-kept path that Frodo often walked that led down to a quiet garden just north of the city. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the mustier smell of the trees. He walked leisurely, simply trying to clear his head and relax. The only sounds were the songs of birds.   
  
At last he came down to the garden, walking down the stone steps in wide strides. The gardens of the Elves were quite different from the ones he'd known in the Shire or Gondor -- the Elves let the plants grow freely, so that after a while it because hard to discern where the flowers ended and the shrubs and trees began. Flowers, sweet-smelling in their perpetual full bloom, climbed the stone columns and statues, coloring and clothing them in living beauty. Trees and shrubs grew freely except where the narrow pathways had been maintained, and their branches reached out as Frodo quietly walked by them. The golden light of the setting sun in the West peeked out of gaps in the branches. He walked deeper and deeper along one of the paths, one that he had walked many times.   
  
Eventually he came to a small, simple wooden bridge where underneath a stream babbled forth in a gentle song. Though it was several feet wide, it was not very deep and the bed underneath the water was made of soft pebbles and soil. He had often seen Elven children playing in it, jumping fearlessly into the clear water from the thin handrails of the bridge when their parents were not looking. Elven children were a tremendous handful to their parents...much like the hobbit children Frodo had known.  
  
He sat down at the highest point on the bridge, grabbing a wooden column securely and dangling his feet over the side. He didn't want to fall, as he did not have the deftness of the Firstborn and might hurt himself if he fell into the stream. It flowed about two meters below him, and the rapidly fading light of the Sun glowed on it and set off golden sparks along the surface. Large fish with spotted backs swam back and forth in the stream, their movements swift and deft in the water.   
  
When he was settled, Frodo let go of the column and folded his hands together on his lap, the left one on top of the right. It was a habit he acquired after the loss of his finger and one that he had not successfully broken. He sat silently watching the stream for a long while, listening to the sound of the water and watching the fish swim up and down the current. His chest still ached, and he focused on trying to calm himself and turn away his thoughts from his grief. He sat on the bridge, watching as the Sun disappeared and the sky darkened, and Varda's stars appeared in the sky.   
  
After a while, he heard a noise near his left side and realized that someone was walking towards him, making a bit of noise so that he would not be startled. He turned, seeing an Elf woman with long silver hair and a silver raiment embroidered with golden leaves. She shone white in the starlight, her soft blue eyes sparkling. "Good evening, Frodo," she said in her gentle deep voice.   
  
Frodo smiled softly up at her. "Good evening, Lady Celebrian," he replied. He expected her to continue walking but instead she tucked her dress underneath her and sat facing him near the edge of the bridge. She laughed softly and Frodo smiled at her. "May I sit with you a while, or would you like to be alone?" she asked.   
  
"I would enjoy your company," he said.   
  
"How are you?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes, almost searchingly. "You left dinner early, and I thought I may find you here. I have seen you sitting here quite often."   
  
"I am well, Lady," he said quietly, meeting her gaze evenly. "Thank you for coming to Bilbo's funeral today; it was a great comfort to see you and Lord Elrond there, along with the Lady Galadriel."   
  
"It was our pleasure to honor him," Celebrian said. "My lord Elrond greatly respected Bilbo, and though my mother only spoke with him a few times, she had respect for him as well. He was truly rare among your kind, and a great friend to ours."   
  
"He was rare." Frodo paused. "He was quite remarkable among our kind, and I loved him dearly. He was very weary of this world, and he wanted to go, He asked not to mourn for him too much, but while I know that he's at peace, I still feel his loss deeply. He was the only real family I had here, and my last tie to Middle-earth. After my parents died, there were family members that took care of me, but none were ever as close to me as Bilbo was. He made me feel as if I belonged somewhere, as if I had a family again. And now that he is gone, I have no one left. I am alone here among my kind."   
  
Celebrian nodded. "I understand how you feel, Frodo. For many years, I was alone here, and the most beloved of my family living far across the Sea. While I had hope I would see them again someday, I did not know when it would be. It was quite difficult for me to start a new life without them. And now my husband and mother have come, which brought me great joy, but I also have suffered a great loss -- the loss of my daughter. When I said farewell to her, I expected to see her again. 'Go, mother, and be healed,' she said to me. 'Find joy in the West, and I will wait until the day we meet again.' I boarded the ship and looked at her one last time, thinking of how she might have changed when next I saw her. I did not realize at the time that I would never see her again." She paused, bowing her head, and Frodo's heart ached again. "She made her choice, as she was allowed to do, and I both rejoice for her happiness and grieve for our parting, for I will not see her again, and her spirit will never be reborn. My sons will journey here one day and I will see them again, but my daughter is lost to me until the day where we all join together with Illuvatar."   
  
Frodo paused for a few moments, then reached into his tunic and pulled out the chain he wore that still bore the white gem Arwen had given him. Celebrian raised her head, and a small gasp escaped her when she saw the stone. He slipped the chain off his neck and held the stone in his palm. It seemed to glow with its own inner light, like a tiny star had settled down on his hand. "Arwen gave this to me before we parted in Minas Tirith, seeing that I was filled with grief and guilt. She told me that it would bring me aid when I was troubled by darkness and fear, and it did. I would look at it or finger it when I was in pain and it helped me to remember all the beautiful things I had seen, and that I was loved and cared for by both of them. And when I wanted for the Ring around my neck, her stone gave me strength and comfort instead." He looked deep into Celebrian's kind eyes, holding out the stone towards her. "It did help me when my wounds were too much to bear, but I have less need of it now that I am here. If you like, Lady, you may have it to remember her by."   
  
Celebrian looked down at Frodo, her eyes shining. "It was well given, indeed, and I would not take it away from you. It was her gift, and I am glad to know it brought you aid." She took Frodo's small hand in hers, covering the stone. "I still grieve for her, but I have enough to remember her. I have centuries of memories of her. I can remember how beautiful she was, more beautiful than her father and I ever expected her to be. I have the sound of her voice embedded into my heart. I have the comfort of knowing that she will find peace with someone whom she loves, and who loves her as well. That is enough for me."   
  
Frodo stared at the stone in his palm for a few moments, then slipped the chain back over his head, letting the gem hang outside his tunic. He closed his eyes and held it closely in his right hand, rubbing his thumb over it. Celebrian watched him silently, then reached out and clasped his left hand. Frodo opened his eyes and looked at her.   
  
"We are not so different, you and I," she said. "We both bear wounds from the Enemy, though yours are much deeper than mine." Frodo opened his mouth to protest but she went on. "The poison of the Enemy is strong, Ringbearer, but you are stronger still. The evil has never truly quenched your heart or conquered your spirit. Do not let your grief for Bilbo open you up to it again. Remember him, and love him, and let yourself enjoy the honor and blessings that you have earned."  
  
Frodo felt hot tears sting his eyes, but he held them back. "You have healed from your wounds, Lady, but I feel sometimes that it is impossible with mine. I have had so much help, from Bilbo, and Este, and Lorien, and Olorin, and I thought that I was doing better. But Bilbo is gone now, and I feel so lost without him."   
  
Celebrian smiled gently at him, and great wisdom shone through her glance. "It is a long path we walk to healing, Frodo. There are those who help us along the way, but they can only walk with us, not force our steps. We must keep along the path ourselves, even when it is dark and the way is not entirely clear. But if we prevail, the light will come again and it will be easier to find our way. And sooner or later, if we keep walking the path long enough, we will find the place we have been seaching for."   
  
Frodo smiled at her, and a few tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks. "Thank you, Lady."   
  
After a short silence, they rose together and walked slowly out of the garden, both of their figures shining in the moonlight. Celebrian sang as she walked, and Frodo realized that it was the same song he had heard Arwen sing the day she had given him her gem. Her voice rose sweetly like birdsong as she sang of the peak of Tanquetil, the sparkling city of Tirion, and the light of the Two Trees. The melody of the beautiful song echoed with profound joy. Tears ran silently down his cheeks as he listened to her. She put an arm around his shoulder and smiled down at him, and he smiled back. They walked through the archway and back into the city, its towers and houses sparkling with gentle light.   
  
Frodo returned to his room and lay down on his bed, the songs of the Elves luring him to sleep. He dreamed that he was back in the Shire, on one of the long walks he had with Bilbo before he went away. The world was quiet and peaceful, and Bilbo sang his favorite songs while Frodo hummed alongside him. Suddenly a soft sunshower fell, and the air filled with the sweet scent of the rain. It was one of those days of Frodo's youth where the world had been perfect and everything seemed safe. Then memory came back to him, and he began to cry, and Bilbo wrapped his arms around him tightly. He let Frodo weep as the rain fell softly around them, holding him close and stroking a hand through his curls. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped and Frodo raised his head, breaking slightly from Bilbo's embrace. His tears were drying, and the ache in his chest felt better, though it was not wholly gone.   
  
"Rainshowers never last forever," Bilbo said, cradling Frodo's cheeks in his hands. "The Sun comes out again, and the world sparkles with new life and is even more beautiful than before." He put an arm around Frodo's shoulders, facing him so that he could look down upon the green hills of the Shire. It was vibrant in the warm sunlight, all greens and golds and browns with a clear blue sky overhead.   
  
"You're going to be just fine," Bilbo kissed him on his forehead, then smiled at him tenderly. "Walk with me a while longer, my lad. This path isn't easy to follow, but I won't let you get lost. I'll be with you the entire way." With that, they struck the path again, side by side. 


End file.
